The Lion And The Eagle
by Ben in the multiverse
Summary: He is a Gryffindor lordling with an empty treasury and a derelict house, she is a Ravenclaw bourgeois princess with the world at her feet. They are forced to marry to advance their families. Harry Potter. Non Canon. 19th Century. (Co-Authored by Simple. White. Lie (/u/1489707/Simple-White-Lie))
1. A Fresh Start

Dusk fell on the streets of London, the twilight painting the damp cobblestones of Diagon Alley in hues of golden, rose, and orange. His shop, Rookwood Remedies, was set in a good corner near Gringotts, a perfect location for what could be a thriving business if the owner didn't settle for just keeping the business as it was.

Benjamin Rookwood was a brilliant potion maker but not a good businessman. Luckily for him, his grandfather's brand was well positioned and business was steady as it could be, making enough every trimester to keep bread in his belly.

However, while he failed at running the business without a bit of financial stimulant from his wealthy banker of a father in law, he had hoped that his marriage would have been more successful in every other aspect. But alas, his wife had despised him since the moment she was forced to move from her beloved Vert-Du house in Northern Ireland, a mere three months after their wedding. Friends had instantly mocked his lack of spine, for a man should not allow his wife to run back to her parents' house, but he had allowed it. Knowing that to contradict an already unhappy wife could end in nothing but woe.

They had married young, she had been a few years younger than he in Ravenclaw at Hogwarts, he a few years older than she in Gryffindor. He spent most of his time in the bowels of the castle in the potions room and saw her there often, rarely speaking. After graduating, he instantly took over his grandfather's shop, hoping the rundown establishment would bring his family from the edge of financial abyss.

It didn't.

His marriage had been one of opportunity. Her parents of good stock, but foreign. More to the point, they were wealthy beyond comprehension, so a

deal was struck and their youngest daughter would marry the Rookwood's only son.

He had met the girl eager, her beauty the only thing that had stuck in his memory, but her haughty eyes and airs had put him off at their first meeting and her tenacious nature and hatred of the cold damp of Scotland had spoiled their second meeting. Their third one had been their wedding and despite her being the loveliest bride in all of England, he loathed spending time with her condescending eyes and social climbing parents.

After nearly six months married and barely a few cordial words between his wife and himself in the massive castle, he took up with an old friend to find both the company and warmth that his wife lacked. She was a dark girl with ebony eyes and a bright smile who stroked his hand when they spoke and was kind to his woes and worries. That was an additional arrangement to his occasional dalliances with nameless girls in pubs outside of London, where he sought the intimacy he didn't pursue at home. His once sporadic dates with Martha were now a weekly event, and their friendship was a solace to him. Their meetings were set at the same place and at the same time. 9 PM at a muggle pub located a block up street from the Leaky Cauldron.

He grabbed his cloak and locked up the place. He didn't intend to be back for the night, likely finding a train north enough to appearate back to Taileasgcoille in the Highlands. The sound of his boots on the street was muted by the constant tapping of the increasing rain as he exited the Leaky Cauldron towards Muggle London, the lamp lights already lit for the night as he lit his pipe, adjusted his hat and clung to his coat collar against the rain, crossing the street towards the Sheep and Crown pub.

The place was dimly lit, as if the owners were afraid to spend more in oil for their lamps than what they made in a week. As soon as he stepped through the doors he could smell the heavy buttery cooking, the sour smell of ale, and the pipe weed and tobacco that hung above the patrons like the ghost of lovers past. The lively mood made up for the lack of

elegance of the place, and the cheap and hearty portions of the kitchen made one glide over the truth of people attending this place to forget the sorrows of their daily lives.

His eyes spied Martha in a corner table, knowing to stay away form the bar and the noisy drunkards. She smiled broadly as he shook his hat and coat, hanging both up as he sidled into the seat, his back to the wall, warmed by the nearby fire and her hand picking up his, "My Lord Benjamin, you'll catch a terrible cold."

"Hearty bowl o' soup and an ale will warm ma blood ma'dear, worry not." He rubbed his thumb against her knuckles and smiled back, "Warm my brain and speak to me." He met the innkeeper's eyes and nodded, and before Martha had drawn a second breath telling Ben about her day, they both had overflowing plates in front of them and two pints. He quickly tucked into his plate while she continued, making affirmative grunts at the appropriate times.

Her story concluded just as he was wiping the crust of his bread against the bottom his bowl, draining his drink. "Ye've had quite a week." He wiped his lips on his sleeve as he asked her of the children that were her charges, the job he got for her by asking a friend to hire the woman to be governess of their children. She was very bright and was wonderful with children, a woman he wished he were able to marry.

A commotion across the bar drew his attention as he spied a band of men harassing a woman. One appeared to be grabbing at her skirt, another at her chest. He sighed, his position and morals pressing him to go save the poor lady from the mob less her honour be taken from her. Leaning over he kissed Martha's cheek and they separated ways early for the night, and he walked her to her carriage before returning to aide the poor lady.

"Ok gentlemen, let's not be animals, the poor lass-..." He started, his Scottish burr more pronounced when he spoke louder as he pulled several away, his eyes going wide as he spied his wife's face, "Georgiana?"

"Benjamin!" She darted to him, her dress in tatters as he pulled her from the hungry men.

"Aw Me n'tha mate's jus'wantad a taste good ser-... But f'you bee knowing the lady, we'll le'u taste first."

"That's my wife." He snarled through gritted teeth and pulled her away from the fiends. He could feel his wand in the back of his trousers and knew he could fend the men off, but not in public. "We're leaving." He pulled her by her elbow and stormed out of the pub, grabbing his hat and coat as a final thought against the roaring rain, pulling the heavy coat around his wife. They made it barely halfway to the leaky cauldron when she tugged him into an alley and they apperated to his storefront; he removed the lock charm and opened the door, both of them drenched by the time they made it inside.

"Georgiana, what the BLAZES were you doing there?" He spun on her, ignoring the cold that made his bones ache.

He could hear her teeth chatter as he made his way around, muttering the incantation to light the candles, "Didn't- wanna-... go... for supper... home. Heard y-y-you... t-t-talking about th-p-p-pl-place."

He shook his head and marched up the stairs. Above the shop was a small sleeping quarters, the single man cot, a writing desk, a small washroom and a fire. She got her wand out and had a roaring fire as he started peeling off his clothes, "Yours off too, I think I have something of my mother's here." He looked over at his wife, her hair plastered to her skin, thinking she had never looked lovelier. Georgiana Antoinette Grey Rookwood was standing in nothing but her torn shift, the material soaked against her normally porcelain skin, which at the moment was looking almost grey, "Georgie, move." She nodded; her face had a grey look that worried him, "They didn't- they didn't hurt you..."

She shook her head as she walked past him, stepping into the shower, charming the tub to fill with hot water, "An expensive dress that is now in strips was the only true victim." He rolled his eyes at the seemingly vain comment; had he known his wife better he would have caught the mocking in her voice. She pulled her shift over her head and stepped into the steaming water, groaning as the heat warmed her bones.

He took the opportunity while she was out of the room to strip down and lay the clothing out over the fire to dry, for charms never worked as well as a fire. After looking through some old boxes he found a shift that was indeed his mother's and not of one of the girls he'd had by both before and likely after his wedding. His mind raced while he sat on the cot, the towel and the shift on his lap as he looked around the tiny, Spartan room, thinking

He didn't notice her calling him, nor did he notice her walking across the room. It wasn't until she was grabbing the towel from his lap that he looked up. She was holding the towel in front of her, but it barely covered her utterly naked and dripping form.

"I-I-I... I b-b... Beg your pardon-..." He blushed brightly as he closed his eyes and his hand shot out, holding the shift out for her. Several minutes later, she cleared her throat and he peeked, seeing her sitting on the hard wooden chair, combing her hair with an odd looking comb.

"I couldn't find a comb, so your wine goblet is doing the trick for the time."

He nodded and cleared his throat, glancing at the window, "Neither of us is getting home tonight."

She nodded, knowing she couldn't manage to appearate to the Highlands, usually going by Floo powder home from Mungo's. And the hour was too late to call upon a friend for a bed for the night. Unless they took rooms at

Leaky Cauldron, but she'd never hear the end of it from her mother to be seen there.

"Here for the night then." She groaned and settled into the chair.

His eyes glanced around the small room, only then realising he had never brought his wife past the front of the shop, the small living quarters remained his, a small private property where he could escape when he was looking for warmth, where he could sleep if work demanded his presence in town till late. Not that she noticed his absent nights from the castle, and if she did, she never mentioned it; after all, he had always been respectful of her, even if they had never seen eye to eye.

She finished combing her waist length hair and began braiding it, his eyes watching as her fingers deftly wove through the curls and tamed them into the thick braid that was slightly off centre. They sat in silence for several ticks of the clock when she began shifting in the camisole and he averted his eyes as the material pulled taut against her body.

He cleared his throat and fought for topic, facing the difficult task to actually converse with his wife. "Did-... did you eat?" He glanced out the window at the heavy rain, damning its presence for the first time, wishing they were back in the ample castle.

She shook her head, "I was-... accosted before I could." He nodded and offered her his dressing coat and his hand as he led her back down the stairs and to the corner tea stand he kept. He had some provisions, but his mind raced to his likely starving wife, knowing she didn't eat during her day at Mungo's.

He pulled her a chair up at his lab bench, clearing many of the bubbling cauldrons away with his wand as he hummed, "I'll going to pop over to the Cauldron to grab you something." She nodded demurely and let him kiss her cheek. "Don't let anyone in. And make tea." Was all he said before appearating away.

Georgie was left alone in the dingy place, looking for a pot to make tea amidst the mess that was the small kitchen, while Ben walked into the Leaky Cauldron and leaned against the counter, running a hand through his hair as he called the innkeeper.

"Tom m'boy," Ben smirked, affecting the air of someone with a few firewhiskeys on top, knowing Tom would give him more food that way, "Do ye have a sandwich or two for a poor sod?"

The bald man chuckled and gave the Rookwood kid a side-glance as he cleaned the counter, "You want bread? We've got bread... Bowl 'o stew."

Ben scratched his beard and narrowed his eyes, "anything grilled?"

Tom snorted and grabbed a carton, placing a bread bowl on it, "ya, the meat innit, t'was grilled three days ago," He poured a hearty dose of stew and handed it over, "five sickles and six knuts."

Ben nodded and fished out six sickles out of the inner pocket of his cloak, nodding at Tom as he grabbed the food, and dissapearated back to his shop with a soft pop in the air.

She had managed to find a kettle, which she boiled once, and scrubbed it clean before boiling it once more with water, summoning a tin of tea, stirring the leaves before scooping them into the strainer. The overpowering smell of slightly stale tea had her mind twisting and turning through the passing of time, to when tea had changed her life.

She had been barely out of school for a month before her mother had started shopping for a suitable husband. It was two years later, after traveling with her father and specialising in the knowledge of herbs, that she would be turning 19 and her mother couldn't have a daughter unmarried by 20. With all her wealth and connections, she knew her daughters could do better. The Grey's wealth came from Georgiana's grandfather who started a business and her father who grew that business

until his trading and banking amassed in the millions. So with her new circle, she started making social calls at Vert-Du, the Grey seat in Ireland.

She had taken tea with the rather unfortunate Dowager Rookwood, widowed for many years, but still draped in heavy black. The woman tried to keep appearances, visiting all the stately homes for tea, her name and title getting her into all the parties, along with her two children. Rosalie was several years her brother's junior and just finishing her second year at Hogwarts, Benjamin lived in London tending to the family's claim to fame, though it was no secret that "Rookwood Remedies" was nothing but a dilapidated shop in Diagon Alley, a shade of the glory it had seen with the direction of it's founder.

All the best families knew of the Rookwoods misfortune and ruin, even before the death of Benjamin Senior, who had gambled their wealth away and brought shame to the name. No invites to the stately Taileasgcoille Tower ever came anymore; the house reported to be abandoned, the Widow Rookwood residing with relatives in the West Country away from her Highland seat. Despite their financial downfalls, she remained the Dowager Countess of Dornloch, a title Mrs Grey couldn't buy.

An arrangement between the ladies was made. The Grey's youngest daughter; a handsome young girl of great potential and already a stunning career ahead of her at Mungo's as a Healer, would be wed to the Rookwood's eldest son, Benjamin, a potion maker and down on his luck fellow two years her senior.

They had taken tea at Vert-Du, surrounded by his sister and mother and her parents, sister, brother in law, younger cousins who were visiting and several neighbours to watch the courtship blood.

Both parties resented it.

Their second encounter was at his family seat of Taileasgcoille, but they did not venture too far inside the walls of the castle, as it was perpetually

under "Renovations". Her keen eyes catching the sight of missing Silver and drapes, all the signs of a withering house lacking funds to keep it going. He proposed, as instructed, by the pond under the watchful gaze of both their families; and she accepted, as instructed, under the eye of all their loved ones.

They were married three weeks later with an ornate ceremony at Vert-Du, with such pomp and décor that she was sure her mother had amassed long prior the engagement was announced.

She jumped as the kettle screamed almost at the same time the snap announced her husband returning with her supper. He placed the bowl before her as tea was poured.

"Thank you," she said demurely as she started to eat slowly.

"Youre' welcome m'dear." He said, shaking out his cloak, "And don't stand on occasion here, there's no servants to whisper to my mother, or Arthur's rock, yours." She tucked in in earnest and quickly inhaled her meal, not realising how starved she had been, only then noting it had almost been a full day she'd gone without food.

Wiping her lips on the arm of his dressing coat, she sipped her tea to wash down the salty, but good, food. "I-... I never thanked you... for saving me from those-... those... brutes."

He took the mug he presumed was his and took a healthy swig, "It's my job. I'm your husband." He shrugged as he grabbed the unlabelled bottle that was hiding in the back behind other decanters, and topping his tea with the strong whiskey. "Despite what you may think," he muttered.

She cocked her head and held her hand out for the bottle, "And what do I think?" She asked, as she used a summoning charm to take the liqueur from his hand to top her own drink.

He arched a brow and leaned back on his chair, looking at his wife, "you think I'm as brute as the men in the pub, that I care nothing for you or your well being," he took a sip of the tea and shrugged, "it's clear you don't like me Georgiana, I simply spare you of my presence as much as possible," his voice was as dispassionate as he could make it, he had decided long ago that her scorn wouldn't hurt him.

She sat down in a chair opposite him, taking a sip of her own drink, relishing the heat of the whiskey as if filled her, "Are you sure you're doing it for me? What is it about my presence you find so unattractive that you seek out your dark skinned companion and cheap girls with cheaper perfumes?" Her voice was equally chilly, he had proven to be nothing but uninterested, something that worked well enough for them.

He quirked a single bushy brow and looked at her, "why do you care, are you offering to replace them, it's not like you haven't had other men"

"I-... I would never!" She cried out indignantly and blushed brightly, but he couldn't help but smile. "I'll have you know, your wife is still an honourable woman." She turned and looked at the fire, "I- I always had this- this notion that my husband would be my one true love, it was him I wanted." He eyes cut to him, "or at least the idea of him. Why would you think I would... have... other men?"

"Because Georgiana," he fumbled with his teacup, then he looked up at her, "you're a very beautiful woman." He said with a soft certainty, his eyes tracing the sharp contours of her face, the way her cheeks hollowed and her jaw set tight when she was frustrated.

"I always presumed you thought me a hag." She shrugged and sipped her spiked tea.

"I don't find you unattractive Georgiana, quite the opposite-" the words ' _most beautiful in existence_ ' crossed his mind, but his brain omitted the words that he dare not utter, the words she wouldn't believe coming from

his lips "I never took you for wanting me in your bed." He thought himself a coward, but she needn't know that. Not that she would care.

He watched her face, the emotions passing across the fine features more quickly than he could label them. Finally she spoke. "This has been clearly bothering you since we married." He shrugged nonchalantly and her eyes narrowed, she dared not let him see how much it hurt... "So you'd have me raise your bastards instead of siring legitimate children?"

"I-... I do beg your pardon?" He snapped, glaring at her, "That is uncalled for."

"Well? Then how do you ensure your gillies don't bear your heirs?" She looked at him directly, her crystalline eyes tearing through him.

He shifted uncomfortably and glanced at the door, his mind pondering how far away he could get after explaining himself. Never did he think his liaisons would come to light with his wife, but here they were, talking about it. "I make sure they drink a potion to prevent that, I'm not as careless as you think me... I do want kids, but I always figured I'd have them with my wife."

The silence yawned between them and he cleared his throat, draining what was left of his tea. He looked at the empty mug and abandoned the pretence of wanting more of his stale tea, simply refilling the mug with firewhiskey, "We've been together almost a year and we know so little about each other..." He sighed, this had been bothering him since they arrived at the flat and he needed to let it out, "I feel terrible for what happened today, if you hadn't heard of the place from me..."

"It's not your fault," She said softly, but her words were firm, "no one compelled me to go but myself."

"Call it an equal share of the blame." He stood and refilled her own empty mug, leaning down to kiss her hair tenderly, the most affectionate gesture they had shared. "I am sorry for this Georgiana."

She looked up at him, her eyes soft as he sat back down, the silence once more sitting between them as they drank. "Tell me-"

"What of-" they both said at once, causing her to giggle, the whiskey warming her bones better than the bath, "You first Husband."

"Tell me about your childhood, about Ireland?" He asked, causing her to blush slightly and nodded.

"Well, we bought Vert-Du when I was very young, my sister was just walking and I was still a swaddled babe. We had a similar house south of Bordeaux that I don't recall living thereat all. We do visit it, but it is simply a vacation home now, far too small for mother's retinue. But Ireland... Oh Ireland." He could see the light glow behind her eyes as she told him of the emerald hills, the rosy sky over the ocean as the sunset faded, the terrifying cold of the lake.

He smiled when he noticed the Irish accent becoming more and more pronounced as she spoke. Her words held such an emphatic urgency that he realised she clearly missed her home.

He refilled both their cups twice before her words started to dwindle, she was near to emptying her second serving before she glanced at the clock, "Good Heavens, you let me talk for nearly an hour!"

He chuckled and drained his drink, realising the bottle was empty as he set his cup aside. "I've never heard you speak of anything you enjoy, let alone something with such... affection." His words were gentle but she still blushed brightly, which made him smile. "My dear, I think I best get you up the stairs, before I am otherwise unable to help."

He placed the empty bottle on the counter, next to other empty ones. Her eyes followed his movements but she remained silent, nursing the last of her beverage and thinking about this man just as he held out his hand to her. Her eyes met his, a hint of hesitation in hers as she held his hand.

"I'm afraid the bed is not as comfortable as the ones in Taileasgcoille Tower, but it'll have to do," his grasp was gentle and his voice soft, even if his accent thickened with the spirits and the tiredness that was evident in his frame and eyes.

Their marriage had been an inconvenient but prosperous affair for both of them and their families, and Georgiana had never warmed up towards the bushy and rough scot she was destined to share a life with. Despite her distaste for his dalliances, his proclivity for drinking, and his sullen behaviour towards her, she was thankful for not suffering the same luck as some of her friends who had married into better positions and suffered at the hands of abusive husbands.

"Georgie?" he asked, as she had been staring at him absentminded.

A soft flush tainted her porcelain cheeks and she nodded, standing and walking with him, wondering if he meant to share the small cot upstairs, "I... I'm sure it will do for us..."

His chuckle was warm and good-natured, his hand resting on the back of her shoulder, as if he was afraid she might topple after the cups of whiskey. "You seem displeased about the prospect," he pulled a couple of extra blankets, old and battered things. He tossed one at the chaise, "but worry not, my wife, you get the cot, I can sleep on the chaise," he nodded towards the small sofa.

She nodded and crawled in bed, "thank you," she mumbled as the alcohol added to the excitement of the evening, making her sleepy at once. He covered her with the other extra blanket, then he slumped across the room on the hard chaise, rubbing his beard as she got as comfortable as possible in the cot, her hair around her face coming loose as the fire softened her features, and he could tell by the way her breathing evened out when she had finally fallen asleep. He was glad when she did, he had feared the fright might keep her awake.

He was drawn to her face. The softness brought by the fire painted an image he hadn't seen since their wedding day. She had been barely 19, and so-... beautiful. Her features framed by an elegant do, the starkness of her porcelain skin against her midnight hair, her cheeks rouged and her lips rosy, her voice had been soft as they vowed themselves to each other. He could tell that their heated argument before his public proposal still lingered in her mind. The wedding finished and he took her hand, leading her from the tent to the garden where the party was to be held, but they somehow managed to sneak away alone for a few precious moments.

He watched her sigh and pluck at the mess of white covering her hair, the veil obviously causing her discomfort. "Problem?" He had asked his new bride and she shook her head, continuing to grab at the veil, "Georgiana, what is it?"

She sighed and groaned, "There's a pin stabbing my head," she pointed. "Here."

He used his considerable height and looked down, digging the pin out, frowning at the visible blood, "It's bleeding."

She shrugged and rubbed at the spot, "It'll heal. I'll put salve on it tonight."

He shook his head and glanced around, pleased that they were still alone. "Come." He pulled her with him and they walked into the grand house together, letting her lead him to her room.

He dabbed at the spot with his pocket-handkerchief, as she handed him the salve and he dotted it on, clipping the veil over the spot and hiding it with a few loose curls, "Better?"

She nodded smiling softly, "Much, I can feel it numbing now."

He extended his hand, "Lets get this horrible thing over. I want to get home before its too dark at Taileasgcoille."

She frowned and rolled her eyes as they walked the labyrinthine house. "Its always dark and cold there."

And that's where the tender moment ended. They had bickered about Scotland and Ireland for the entire duration of the walk to the party and separated soon after, ignoring each other for the rest of the night.

She had fallen asleep as his mind continued to trace back memories, her words form earlier resonating within. He had never presumed to bed her simply because he could, despite how much his friends insisted he should exercise his right and duty as husband. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, but her brash and deprecating attitude towards him, towards his home, his family, his business; it all diminished the desire he could feel towards her looks.

She had asked why he needed Martha and other girls, but he couldn't tell her the truth outright, how could he tell her that his desire increased when he was met with a willing an enthusiastic partner, when he met the same desire in the girl's eyes as he felt in his gut.

He sighed and tried to get comfortable in the chaise, rubbing his face as he stared at the fire. Martha was the girl he would have married had his father not died when he was but 15. A sweet Hufflepuff girl who had always been a good friend to him, and who had accepted the impossibility of their union once his father had died. He had wanted her, but she had been firm, she wouldn't be the warm pot where he dipped his need, but she would be his friend; the tender kisses and light touches they shared were far more than he got at home.

The moon and clouds moved on the sky and his eyes closed at times, bringing him visions of azure eyes until the sun peeked through the windows. His owl pecking the glass as it came back from the ministry with the positive response for his request to connect his chimney to the Floo Network for the day.

The clear light of day seemed pale after the rainy day, and the clouds promised another day like the previous one. Ben fed his owl and sighed, his thoughts still busy with the idea that had occurred to him soon before sunrise.

Georgie stirred and yawned, her long lashes brushing against her cheek as she stirred. "Hmm... Ow..." She grabbed at her head and groaned, "My head."

He chuckled as he climbed up off the chaise, wandering over to the small table of potions and making a concoction, before passing it to her, "This should help." She eyed the thick purple liquid and sighed before drinking it quickly. She gagged slightly and coughed as her husband laughed at her, "That's my girl!"

She blushed and glared, but her headache was indeed better. "Thanks."

He shrugged and handed over a cup of tea, sipping from his own, "Y're welcome," he looked at her and nodded, "I'll go to the cauldron to grab you some food if you want. But you should probably head home, food there is better... I'll be there after sundown."

She hummed and stood up, taking a sip of the barely acceptable tea, "I could use a good meal from Mrs McGuinneas." She looked over at him, "you're staying here?"

He nodded, "I need to open shop soon..." he fidgeted his hands and looked at her, "Georgiana... I have a request... If you would let me ask."

She cocked her head, arching a thin brow, "oh?" her mind raced, concern sweeping through for an instant, "please do, husband mine."

He blushed slightly and ran a hand along his unruly hair, "we've been together for a year now... It's come to my attention that we really aren't even remotely acquainted with each other... And it might have occurred

to you, as well as I have thought of the matter, that we are irrevocably tied together for yet many years."

She nodded and sipped her tea as she listened, not sure where he was going.

"It seems clear to me that we should try to get along better... Merlin knows we don't like each other, but maybe we can make an effort to at least know one another better..." his ears reddened, "I would like to formally ask you, if you would be so kind as to allow me to take you out for dinner this week end. A date, if it suits you."

She looked at him and seemed to weight his words carefully, after a few moments she finally spoke, "you want to go out on a date... With me?"

He nodded.

She played with a strand of her hair. "And how, pray tell, do you think that will work with your... Current companions. Wouldn't going on a date with your wife spoil your amorous entanglements?"

His brow furrowed, "there's no need to mock me, Georgie. I am honestly asking you to dinner, feel free to refuse, but please don't insult me."

She signed and reached out for his hand, holding it warmly, "I don't mean to mock or offend Benjamin." Her eyes found his, "I'm not a woman who likes to share. I simply don't do that."

He held her hand and leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss on her knuckles and making her blush, "and I'm a ' _one woman_ ' kind of man... If you accept, I will only be seeing you Georgiana. No one else," he let go of her hand, afraid he was making her uncomfortable, "and its just dinner, I don't... I won't demand anything..."

Her cheeks turned red and she nodded, "yes Ben, I would gladly go for dinner with you."

He smiled, feeling an unfamiliar rush of excitement, "Th-thank you, my wife." He turned to the fireplace and tapped a small pot, "Floo is already connected; you should go home my dear."

She stood up and rested a hand on his upper arm, pulling back quickly, as if not trusting herself, "Ben, you should go home, get some sleep..."

He shook his head, "I slept enough, and I really should get started for the day," he glanced outside, "it promises to be a long one."

She stared at the fireplace, contemplating her choices. She knew he was watching and so she had to move quickly, grabbing a handful of floo powder she stepped into the fireplace, muttering softly to herself as she disappeared. He nodded as she vanished, turning around and heading down the stairs to open the shop for the day, the ancient building feeling quite empty all of a sudden.

He opened the windows, shutters and door, swept the floor and flipped the sign with his wand. He didn't notice the cat at the door as he muttered and mumbled about his day, and it was noon before he realised he was being watched.

The creature was pure white, not a speck on its body from paw to nose. Its eyes were owl like and a blue as a stormy sky. "Well aren't you a pretty thing." He muttered as it jumped up on his counter, tail flicking as it watched him. "Someone will be looking for you." It meowed softly and cuddled into his palm as he petted the cat's dewy soft fur.

The bell rang and Ben looked over, recognizing the boy, a bag under his arm, "Excuse me sir, but would you be Lord Rookwood?"

"Depends, who's asking?" Ben said, wiping his hands on the nearby cloth.

"Mister Melby sir. He's looking for his due." Ben sighed and wandered to his moneybox, swearing slightly as he realised he was short. Digging out

what he could spare, he sent the boy on his way and made a note to check over his receipts, see if he could scrounge up a few more Knuts.

The cat cooed at him and he glanced over, "You're still here? Plan on staying?" It hopped from one counter to another and chirped at him, "Very well, I'll see what I can find for you. But you stay out of my way when I'm mixing potions. Don't want your pretty coat to end up green." He chuckled as he locked up the moneybox, setting it down.

He set a saucer of milk out for the cat, a female he soon discovered, and it lapped at the liquid as he set out his wares for the day, setting about mixing several potions at once. The calendar telling him which potions brewed best under the current rising moon. He kept a dialogue with the feline as he went about his day, sharing what little he could spare from his meagre lunch, half wondering if his wife had something better from their kitchen, or if she'd even stayed. She worked a schedule that was completely her own, dictating when she went to Mungo's based on her mood with her husband.

Once he thought she despised him. Now he wasn't so sure. He glanced over at the cat as she sprawled in the sun by the window and he wandered over, sitting with her, his fingers gently digging into her silken fur as he petted her, continuing his monologue, "-I mean, then she tells me that it's me who hated her and-... I don't know. I thought I knew women. She seemed to accept my date idea pretty easily, but is she doing that because she's my wife? Or because she wants to? Who knows..."

The cat shifted to look at him, blinking slowly as if to say ' _Take a breath already_ '. He chuckled as he petted the cat. "You know, it's been awhile since I've had a cat. It would be nice to keep one around. I'll make a deal. You keep the mice away and I'll keep a bowl out for you."

She bent to his offered hand and nudged it slightly; as if in encouragement for him to continue petting, "Square deal then." The day pressed on and the cat didn't leave, moving from sun spot to sun spot as he mixed his

potions, the rare customer that did come in bought little to nothing, or made their orders and left, allowing Ben to continue on mixing, his chats with the cat never ending.

The sun fell as he started closing up the shop, frowning down at the cat that was looking at him, sitting upright with her tail curled around her, "I should name you, if you're going to stick around." He glanced around his shop, humming for inspiration, spying some Silver King plants limp on his counter, "Silver?" She hissed and jumped up on the counter, grooming her paw. His eyes looked around as his mind raced through every possible name, till he spied his owl, Apollo returning from his hunt successfully clutching a shrew in his talons, "Hm, Apollo's sister is Artemis." He looked down and smirked, "Do you object to Artemis?" She cooed and purred, cleaning her face.

"Artemis it is." He nodded as he closed the windows and locked up.


	2. Artemis and Benjamin

Their night out had been set for the following Friday night, and she had spent the entire week following him. Her position at Mungo's allowed her to pick her schedules, so she took a few days off and transformed into a cat, as she had been able to do since her fourth year at Hogwarts. She would take the shape of an immaculate white cat, with striking blue eyes; and it was in this shape that she had become a constant companion to her husband, learning his quirks, watching him struggle on a daily basis.

She had the habit of leaving for work before him, so she needn't change her routine for her new endeavour. She simply used Floo to the Cauldron instead of Mungo's, where she arranged food to be taken to him at lunchtime, an oversized portion so she could have what he didn't finish. Then she would transform and sneak into his shop down the street, where he would be setting milk for "Artemis" and pouring tea for himself.

Her eyes followed him as he prepared potions and tended to the few patrons who solicited his services; but she noted he seemed tense.

Well, more than usual.

She didn't know why he strived so much or why his business seemed to barely survive, but she had noticed his potions were of good quality and he enjoyed his work. He was usually chatty, telling the cat about his day, about his hopes, about his potions, but he had been uncharacteristically quiet, even eating less than half of his stew and letting her to have the rest.

Her tail oscillated and she purred, rubbing against his legs and sitting on his lap as he sat down after closing the store. She wondered what he was up to, he had the kettle boiling and his fingers tapped the table nervously, she could feel his heart beating uneasily and everything about him exuded expectancy .

Their date was to happen that night; was he perhaps feeling regret upon inviting her for dinner?

She purred and looked up at him, nudging his chest and meowing for his attention.

He smiled and buried his fingers on her thick fur, "I haven't forgotten about you little girl," he stroked behind her ears and her chin, making her roll on her back so he could rub her chest and belly as she purred contently, her eyes never leaving his worried face, wondering why he had closed early and why wasn't he leaving.

The answer to her questions knocked on the door after a few more minutes. He got up at the sound, cradling her in his arms and kissing the top of Artemis's head, as if needing her warmth for support as he opened the door.

She looked up, her ears twitching as she could hear the shuffling of a pair of boots outside, shifting as she perceived a sweet scent with her sensitive nostrils. Then the door was open and there stood his dark lady, the one that had been with him on the pub almost a week ago.

Martha smiled at Ben and looked at the cat, trying to reach out to pet the beautiful animal, but Georgiana, or Artemis, shuffled quickly from Ben's arms and hissed almost imperceptibly at the woman, before fleeing.

Using Ben's shoulder to take off, she made her way to the highest shelf, her favourite spot when Ben was winding down as it was near the upstairs with a minute hop, through the bannister spindles and into the room. From her perch on top, her eyes following the two people in the entrance. "Not a very friendly cat you have there Ben." Martha said softly, as the two had watched the animal make her retreat.

He shrugged non-committal, "We adopted each other. Don't know much about her yet." _As intended, scoundrel._ Artemis thought as she watched, flipping her tail with discontent. The two chatted amicably for several

minutes over tea before Ben cleared his throat and motioned to the stairs. Martha smiled softly and nodded, and Georgie made sure Artemis was already there, sitting in the windowsill, capturing the last rays of sun. "Martha, I... I think it's time."

They both sat, Ben on the chaise, and Martha on the cot. She had her speculation, but remained in her spot watching.

"Yes. I do believe so." The dark woman said as she removed her coat and looked up at her friend with uncertain eyes.

Ben's eyes moved around the room and his gaze fell on Artemis. She didn't blink as she usually did, but she shifted and yawned, settling with her paws under her body, watching attentively as her husband fidgeted on the seat. She couldn't read his mind, but she could guess by the openness of his body and the way he patted his knee, he wanted her to hop over and let him hold her. _Not now Benjamin_ , she thought as her tail continued to move.

He sighed and looked at his lady, holding his hands together, his finger stroking his wedding ring as he spoke quietly, "no Martha, that isn't what I want to talk about."

She saw the girl straighten up, as if stiffening her spine before an opponent. "My answer remains the same Benji."

Georgie chuckled in her mind at the thought of duelling this woman, her snout twitching and her whiskers shaking. Artemis stretched and walked along the windowsill, jumping to the mantelpiece over the chimney for a better look at the couple, licking her paw as she continued to observe, noticing the change in attitude from the lady towards her man.

He shook his head and shuffled from the chair to the cot, sitting next to Martha, and resting his hand hesitantly over hers, "Martha, I cannot continue seeing you."

"You... Has she said anything?" Martha arched a brow.

The cat sneezed, _I wouldn't let his paws touch you if I cared_ , she purred.

Ben shook his head, giving Artemis a glance as his eyes returned to Martha, "she hasn't, but after the other night... I've reconsidered my attitude, I believe I need to pour more effort into making my marriage work," his eyes were searching her face, "and I can't make it work if I'm seeing you."

Artemis watched as this Martha grew less confident, her body less of the harlot she had been pegged as and more like the simpleton Georgie presumed lay under the pretty face and heaving bosom. "I-... I don't understand."

"Martha," He sighed gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "My dear Martha." He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, looking across the room at Artemis, who was looking back at him with her big blue eyes, her tail flicking as though disapprovingly, "Martha, I owe my wife the respect of giving her my attentions. I can't do that with other... distractions in my life, as pleasant as those distractions are." He looked up at her eyes, damning the welling tears that he found, "It's time I commit to being the husband I am to the wife I have."

"You-... She doesn't deserve you." Martha said, her voice breaking, "She knows nothing of you."

"Maybe so," He nodded, "But I need to give her the chance to do so. As I equally know very little of her." He looked back at the cat and sighed, "I need to attempt to form a relationship with my wife. For the sake of any children we are to have, and more importantly..." He looked at Martha, knowing he was delivering the final blow, "She's the woman I'm meant to be with. I'll damn myself to the pits if I don't at least try."

"She'll divorce you within the year if she knows what you truly are," Martha's words meant to sting, but Ben simply brushed them aside as his hand drew back from hers.

"As fickle as she is, I have been getting the sense that she cares of me." Ben said softly, cocking his head.

Martha wiped at her eyes and sniffed, "How can you possibly know that. She's an ice queen."

"Well..." Ben blushed up to his ears; "She's had lunch sent to me every day since Thursday. And we had breakfast together this morning."

"You are making a terrible mistake." Martha began to plead, "You'll get your heart broken, and then it'll be onto me to fix you. Yet again."

He'd had enough of her womanly simpering and shook his head, standing, "I am not asking your permission nor for your blessing. I am merely informing you that this relationship has met its conclusion."

Artemis was still, her neck straight despite her relaxed poise, her eyes unmoving from Martha as the woman stood, stepping towards Ben, her hand stroking his bushy auburn whiskers, leaning over and kissing him without speaking a single word, her body leaning to the man she was trying to keep by her side, hoping she could ignite memory and warmth in him. Georgie's hair stood on end, but she remained impassive long enough to see her husband pulling away from the woman, his eyes widened, his hand on Martha's shoulder as he kept her at arms length, pulling out his wand and summoning her coat with his other hand and holding it to her.

"Please leave Martha, I have to go meet my wife." His voice left no room for discussion and the woman stormed out of the flat, stomping down the stairs and slamming the door behind her.

∼∼.∼∼.∼∼.∼∼.∼∼.∼∼

He remained still for a breathing moment, his eyes on the stairs as the front door slammed. He was pale, but he was a statue for a moment longer... Then he stumbled backwards, falling on the chaise, crumbling down with his head between his hands, shuddering.

It had always been like this for him, his father had once said he didn't deserve to be a Gryffindor for his courage came with a great emotional toll for him. Standing up for himself, for others, it was something he had always done, specially when it was his family; his mother said he was loyal to a fault, his father said he was weak. And probably he was.

He felt cold, his hands almost numb, but soon after falling on his chair he felt the soft little creature walking around his feet, purring softly. He raised his head from his hands and Artemis jumped on his lap immediately, nestling in and nuzzling his hand, burrowing close and giving his palm a few licks and a soft nip.

"As you wish, little thing," he smiled, doing as she bid and stroking her head gently. "It was the right thing, wasn't it? Even if it hurts now... Georgiana is my wife, she deserves more from me."

The snowy cat meowed softly and purred some more, pressing her head to his arm and nuzzling his fingers, her snout rubbing his wedding ring as she did. He smiled and rubbed the ring with his thumb, scratching her jaw and allowing her to nuzzle his hand.

"You like that, is it the shinning light from it?"

Artemis yawned and looked up, as if trying to tell him something. He looked into those bright blue eyes and he suddenly felt he was forgetting something...

"Merlin's beard!" he ran his other hand through his bushy hair and hugged the cat, placing her gently on the ground. "I'm going to be late!"

He rushed downstairs and forgot about the cat, not noticing if it followed him or stayed up stairs. He closed and charmed his door, waving his wand to clean the kettle and cups, before sprinting back up. A single glance told him the cat must have left already, but it all took a secondary place in his mind as he grabbed the powder and threw it on the chimney, enunciating the name of the pub in Dunloch, where he would buy her a bouquet of flowers before appearating at home for their date. He was determined to make sure nothing went wrong.


	3. The First Date

His hand rested on her back, his fingers almost afraid to touch her skin and pressing against the fabric of her dress instead. He could feel himself sweating despite the cool weather and he knew he was nervous. She, on the other hand, was radiant; and her smile shone with newfound warmth towards her husband. She wasn't past her scepticism towards the man, but so far her observations had been favourable, as she had a better notion of the man she had married.

What remained to be seen was his proper behaviour towards her as his wife, her nerves properly restrained as she intended to set his own nerves at ease with the information she had gathered so far.

The truth was that neither felt uncomfortable in the surroundings. Plush seating, women with beautiful hair done in elaborate displays to show their wealth and their husbands status, men in trim waistcoats and tails, their ties neat at their neck as the chimes of fine china echoed like a warming orchestra, the candlelight hitting just the right amount of brightness and intimacy as the copper hue bathed the ornate walls and tall ceilings with its elaborate chandelier. Whether by witchcraft or expert mugglecraft, one couldn't tell. Which just added to its aesthetic value.

Benjamin nodded at the host, his kilt as neat as his freshly trimmed hair, his beard seen to before he bought her the flowers that now resided on her vanity at home. She had smiled as he knotted his tie before leaving the house, the red and blue pattern bringing out the undertones in his hair and eyes, making him look even younger than he was.

Her dress was a rich navy and bronze creation that made her skin glow and her eyes brighten. Her hair curled and pinned in a simply style, with sapphire combs tucked into the massive nest. He had to admit it, when he first saw her dressed up he felt his heart nearly stop. And even now he

saw every eye in the almost decadent room look to his wife. Both muggle and non-muggle.

Because if the Lords of the Kingdom had managed one thing so far, was to keep magical status well hidden and their place in society stable. For the upperclass of British society, this was the place to go to be seen. And he heard to food was more palatable then the parrich the house elves served in the morning.

The host showed them to their table and Ben thanked him, holding out her chair. She grabbed her skirts and sat with the ease of a woman who had been born in the station and company she currently sat. He took a moment to breathe in and out and sat opposite her, giving her a crooked smile as he tried to settle his nerves. Her eyes met his and her cheeks flushed pink as she returned the smile, although hers was a full and honest one, the nervousness underneath only betrayed momentarily as she bit her lower lip. His hands patted his coat and along his lap, carefully smoothing the lines of his kilt as he immediately felt flustered by the display. "May I bring wine for the table?" The host bowed as he sat the highborn couple.

"Yes," she smiled, seeing Benjamin was worrying his clothes, "excuse my husband, he's had quite a trying day." She dipped her head graciously as the man disappeared. "Benjamin?"

His eyes looked up at her and he smiled warmly, "If I may be so bold, I really would like you to call me Ben."

Her face softened as she nodded, "Ben, pleasure to meet you. I'm Georgie."

He laughed softly as the waiter poured their wine. "Georgie-... Charmed." Taking her glass, she held it up and he tapped his against it, the chime ringing along with the atmosphere of the room. His eyes met hers once more and the words hung on his lips, though he hesitated.

She looked at him, her eyes piercing with keen interest, arching a brow, "What is it?" He shook his head as his hand fell, "Oh no... you had a thought. I can see it shrinking behind your eyes."

"Its-... It's silly."

She smiled, the memory of his frantic look from the shop lingering in her mind, the helplessness that had overcome him when he realised he didn't have enough money to pay the rent. She knew this wasn't new, and she also knew he didn't trust her enough to tell her yet. "You're married to a Ravenclaw," she reached over and rested her hand lightly on his, "never hold your tongue with me-... Ben."

He cleared his throat and smiled, "Then I would like to propose a toast." She lifted her glass, pulling her hand from his, and smiling back, "To a woman who rivals the stars in beauty, and to a happiness yet lived. I do hope we can find something here. Even if its only friendship."

She blushed at his compliment. "To us." she nodded, "Here's hoping for many happy years to come. Whatever we may find between us."

The waiter approached the table and nodded, "Good evening Sir, My Lady." He smiled "Our meal this starts with a -" He droned on, and Georgie nodded as he stared at his wife, taking the time to observe the lines of her face, the rouge on her cheek, a single curl that fell down her collarbone. The raven hair wisped around her face as she spoke, of what he knew not, food couldn't be more interesting than the line on her jaw.

"Ben... Ben?" She chuckled as he was lost, "I'll have the fish, and he'll have the lamb." The waiter bowed, "Very good my lady. Good luck with your husband."

"He's a chemist. I fear his brain is often addled by fumes." She chuckled and waved for the waiter to leave them as it was his time to blush, the man made a visible effort to stop his eyes from moving over her features, he shook his head and looked at her, "Well hello there," she chuckled.

"I am so sorry." He shook his head and smiled, "What were you saying?"

She sighed and looked at him, "I requested the Lamb for you. I hope that suffices."

He beamed, "Perfect. I ah-... I am afraid I was lost in thought."

"I have noticed you have a tendency to do that." she smiled, "As well as you are always stroking your beard."

He turned crimson, "I do apologise... It's just..." he shook his head, not brave enough to say the words, but remembering she had urged him to speak his mind, "it's just that I think you look lovely this evening Georgie. Thank you for accepting my invite for dining together".

She was about to stammer an apology, unprepared as she was to his words, but the waiter spared her the trouble as he placed bread between them and a starter dish, on the house.

"You were right Ben," she smiled as they finished the appetizer, "we are practically strangers. Why don't you tell me about the potion shop? It seems like there's more to it than meets the eye."

He smiled broadly and shifted on his seat, glad to have something to talk about that didn't get him nervous. Potionmaking had been one of his true passions since his early years at Hogwarts, the art came easily to him and it was the one thing he and his father had in common.

Before they knew it they were talking easily, he told her of his relationship with his father, of how he had to manage the shop before even leaving school, obtaining a special permit from Headmaster Dippet to work week- ends and a few afternoons, his heart and soul poured into that little shop in Diagon Alley. She told him of her family, of her weekends spent in France, of how her mother wanted her to attend Beauxbatons and how her father wouldn't hear of it. They discussed school, quidditch, potions and healing techniques used at Mungos.

By the time dessert arrived they were already discussing muggle policies, the state of wizard-muggle relations, and Ben's sister's desires to spend the holidays with them.

"Ben, I don't mind your sister. But don't house her in the cottage." She took a taste of the chocolate truffle, the warm taste overwhelming her taste buds, "That thing is a sty!"

Ben blushed, he'd wanted to repair the cottage to house his mother and sister, the grand house was more modest than the castle itself, but no less than any grand house in London or Glasgow. He looked around the room at the swath of London's upper crust; living in their grand country homes in Scotland while the Queen resided at Balmoral. With her brought the flocks of court and the flourish of new shine to the old sparkle of the grand establishment, wishing he could afford to refresh the cottage like he had the castle. It had suited enough for his wife to hold tea and parties, the grounds tamed from the wild of the highlands once more, but the outer borders were mostly untended to. Debts had to be paid, and the shop wasn't bringing in what he'd wanted it to...

"—Ben? Ben?"

He shook his head and looked at her, "I'm sorry."

She chuckled softly and patted his hand, "You work too hard." Her face softened and she looked at him, "Would you allow me to arrange the cottage?" She smiled warmly, "I could do it as a surprise to your mother and sister." He frowned slightly, trying to think of how to state he couldn't afford it, "The architect that helped Daddy with Vert-Du is assisting Her Majesty presently at Balmoral, but he tells me it bores him and he misses a challenge. I wager I could get him to redesign the entire cottage on a dare he's so tired of the standard." She tittered as she desperately wanted him to tell her of his money troubles, her own wealth sitting useless as her father's allowance to her continued. She could only buy so many pretty dresses, so many shoes, and so many pretty jewels

before the whole mess became dull and boring. She longed for a challenge and so; on a whim, she reached over, looking at him. "You saved my life from fiends. At least let me repay the kindness you've shown me."

"I-..." His mind flashed over Martha, his financials, his own state before looking up, her piercing blue eyes, as blue as Ravenclaw's banner, he sighed and shook his head, "I can't accept your offer." He noticed the disappointed look in her eyes and added quickly; "don't take it as an offence, Georgie, I beg of you..."

She smiled at him and nodded, but her mind was already resolved to go on with the renovation plan anyway.

Once the bill was settled he helped her up from her chair, holding her hand and helping her with her coat as they walked back outside, hands intertwined without even thinking about it.

They appearated back to the grounds of Taileasgcoille. The both of them shivered involuntarily as the weather changed around them, the damp air a tad too cold for the season. He shrugged as if trying to shake off the temperature, glancing over at his wife who was shivering despite her coat.

"It is an unusually cold night," he observed, stepping closer to her, "I was thinking maybe a walk could warm us up?"

She looked at him incredulous and saw he was serious about the proposal, her lip curled and she snorted, "it's a good story..." she attempted to mimic the Scottish burr, "My wife? No sir, she died from the damp, she did always say Scotland's weather was overly bleak."

He chuckled, tentatively wrapping an arm around her, "better?"

She rolled her eyes, but leaned closer to her husband, he was quite warm to be honest, and a walk was a good opportunity to continue their conversation. She wrapped her shawl around her and tucked herself into his coat closer, "You grew up here?" He nodded and held his wife close,

the scent of her hair a warm mixture of vanilla, lavender and a hint of Cypermint, the smell somehow both warm and comforting, and yet fresh and spicy all at once. "Tell me about it?"

He shrugged and sighed, "Not much to tell. When I was a lad, it was just a house. Mrs McGuineas did most of me lessons before school, and mother did some. Me Fa' wasn't around much. Too much drink and gambling. Hunting when he could find a gaggle of twats to fly about the grounds after a stag or heaven forbid he heard there was a Graphorn in the area." She made a "tsk" sound and he nodded, "When he died, I didn't find myself too sad. More angry that he left me this family to raise when I was barely a boy myself."

She nodded, "I remember you coming and going from school. I had just been made prefect and found it strange. But Professor Dippet and Professor Rowle never raised and concerns."

He smirked warmly at her, "I was a tad sly, there's many corners of that castle I learned to slip in and out of. One of these days I should show you." The cold was starting to addle his brain, he was sure, for he believed he may had just tried to flirt with his wife.

"Oh some day I'll show you nooks and crannies." She huffed, and giggled softly looking up, "It does seem so... magical."

He nodded as that gas lanterns were lit to light the way for the Lord and Lady, "It was. Summers by the lake, stealing food from the kitchen-... the elves would always help if we tempted them with something sparkly. Winters around the fireplace in the great hall with Christmas lunch, spring holiday we would always go to Spain with my mother's parents, to this day my sister still loves nothing more than the sun."

"Well that's something her and I have in common." Georgie glanced over the stone that had likely been laid by some muggle hundreds of years before. "There's nothing like being warm."

He heard her teeth start to natter as he muttered softly, "You're soaked my dear, I'm sorry. You are going to catch that cold." He grabbed his wand and muttered, her shawl growing longer and heavier as he coiled it around her. "Lets retire to the house, I'll personally make you a cuppa."

She nodded, grateful that he was done, but mourning slightly the end of conversation. He really was a bright man, with a sharper tongue than she had guessed, and as they walked back to the castle, she was astonished that she was sad the evening was ending, "To the shop tomorrow then?" She asked as they neared the front gates, the doors opening and footmen already bowing.

He nodded, sighing as the thought of his ledger book waiting for him, "Unfortunately I-... Yes. I do believe my presence is required."

She frowned slightly, "Have you ever thought about hiring someone to mind the front while you can make potions? It all seems silly that you do both and are leaving your potions to sit while tending to customers."

He knew she didn't realise what she was asking, so it was fairly easy to temper his outburst as he shed his outer coat, her maid handing her a evening jacket which she gently declined, still too cold as she followed him to the main kitchen, "It's-... the store isn't really busy enough to warrant more than just myself at the present. I'm still trying to figure what I'm going to do with it."

"Has anyone offered to buy it?" She asked. Her curiosity piqued.

He nodded, it had been the hardest thing in the world turning down the offer, "I knew the shop was worth far more. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was a sense of loyalty or even memory to when Granddad couldn't keep decanters on the shelves they were so busy." His lips pursed in thought as she followed him, "I want it to be like that. I just-... My potions just aren't quite there yet." She smiled as they sat at the kitchen table, a large piece of wood that sat four, where the kitchen staff could have their own supper.

"Chetwood? Bring my wife a cup of hot cocoa. She needs something warm and sweet before bed."

She blushed brightly as the man bowed and she murmured a thank you as he shrugged, "My sister would always have a cup before bed. Something about the way they made it helped her sleep, I believe it will help you better than tea."

Georgie nodded and ran her fingers through her shawl, both of them remaining quiet until Chetwood brought two cups with hot cocoa and a plate with biscuits. She seemed to have snuggled back into her coat, all of a sudden looking younger, more fragile. He couldn't help but notice she looked so delicate, as if the lateness of the hour only added to her beauty.

Ben smiled and grabbed one of the cups, blowing gently over it and, "I've noticed your coats and shawls aren't as thick as the weather might require..." He blushed, only then realising he had always been paying a certain degree of attention to his wife, "I can always change it back to how it was-..." He held his cup with both hands, relishing the warmth of the beverage, trying not to think of the warmth that spread in him.

She shook her head, holding her own cup and taking a long sip, smiling broadly as the rich flavours warmed her, "no need to, I do need warmer clothes..." she smiled at him, her cheeks rosy, "this cocoa is delicious, I see why your sister enjoys it so," she hummed, trying to think of something else to talk about, to keep the conversation going, but the hour was late and her brain seemed to care only for the warm cocoa and her soft bed waiting upstairs. Her eyes met Ben's and he blushed as she caught him staring at her.

He was exhausted as well, not only had it been a long day, it had been an emotionally taxing one. He was daydreaming and his eyes had fixated on his wife's features, the warm cup still cradled in his hands as he tried to find something interesting to say. He wanted to keep their easy chat, and

his heart felt like there was so more to this woman than he had initially believed. He averted his glance with a blush and sipped from his cup

His eyes felt heavy and the air was dense with words unspoken, with their mutual curiosity and hesitation to push things too hard or too fast. The thought of having to open the store early the next day pressed constantly on his mind. Reluctantly he took out his pocket watch, groaning inwardly as his suspicions were confirmed. He looked up and met her gaze, not wanting to say the words but knowing he'd regret it in the morning.

"Georgie, It's nearly two..." he sighed softly, "you've got work in the morn' and so do I. It nears the end of the month and the shop has to be open by nine." He found he was starting to ramble and he blushed, getting up from his seat and holding out his hand.

She smiled and drained her cocoa, hesitating for a moment, then holding his outstretched hand, "I know Ben, you need your rest and so do I."

Without realising it they had slipped back into a slightly more formal tone and they both mourned the change to themselves, not daring to express it.

But she held his hand as they walked upstairs.

The castle was too large for a single couple, and their quarters were separated by an entire corridor, hers the last one of the east tower, one of the warmest of the house.

"Would you allow me to accompany you to your suite?" he asked, not daring say more, fearing his emotions might show in his voice. He didn't want to part, but he knew they must.

Her eyes met his once more and she nodded, not trusting herself to speak, suddenly as shy as she had been on her first day at Hogwarts.

So they walked in amiable silence to her door, as she felt the atmosphere thicken with unspoken words, with untold promises, with secret desires.

She took a deep breath as they reached her suite, turning on her heels and looking at his husband, whispering softly, "goodnight Benjamin," her head tilted slightly up to see his face, as he was a few centimetres taller than her, her lips slightly parted almost as if she wanted to say something else, or as if expectant for a pair of lips to wish her good night.

His hand still held hers and he was standing close to her, not realising their proximity, his body naturally drawn to hers. He leaned down, his breath seeming to catch as his lips almost brushed hers. A last minute's hesitation made his face turn ever so slightly, causing him to brush her cheek in a tender and chaste manner as he whispered back, "goodnight Georgiana."

The hallway was darkened and they failed to notice the bright flush on their spouse's cheeks as they each turned around. She walked into her room and he headed towards his own.

Once inside her room she leaned against the door, the pool of her dress encasing her. She felt warm and cold all at once, the brushing feeling of his whiskers on her face, the soft pressing of his lips on her cheek. For the first time in a long time, she had felt like a child, charmed by the idea of a handsome boy... It all made her blush terribly, and as she worked on bringing her hair down from her elaborate do, she thought of what he had shared during their conversation, the impulses of youth giving way to the worries of an adult as her interest continued to be peaked by her husband.

The fire crackled from the hearth as her room warmed her bones, the windows cracked slightly to allow air to pass through creating the perfect atmosphere. It wasn't her Ireland. But it was close enough to be comfortable.

Except for that night she predicted. She had foreseen her night filled with the green eyes and dark auburn curls of her husband. A man she had thought little of this past year, before the last fortnight. After the night at the pub as she lingered during the days in his shop under the guise of his

new pet, all coming to climax with their date that evening. A date she hadn't known what to expect, and was still blown away. She had watched as he ended his relationship with his lover, the beautiful but dark woman both askance and aggravated by her husband's rejection. She slowly got up and made her way to her attached bath, the room her husband had created for her as her sole request to moving into the castle with him.

After they had wed, she had remained at Vert-Du, not relishing the thought of living in the boggy highlands with the man that was practically a stranger. He had first asked her parents, who demanded she go, but she would not move from her palatial bedroom. Finally her husband came to her, asking her to move with him into the newly renovated castle, Taileasgcoille Tower freshly redesigned to had a woman living within once more. He promised her whatever she wanted, within her own suite she could have. She asked for two things. The castle would be designed in soft colours of blues and greens, and secondly, she would have a modern bath adjoining her room. He agreed and returned less than a fortnight later with the changes made. She moved in the next day.

She wouldn't admit, but she loved her room. It wasn't the girlish boudoir she had grown up in. No, it was a ladies chamber. The heavy tapestry over her mantle bore the Rookwood crest of the Unicorn, intertwined with the Grey's crest of the Phoenix. The hues of blues and reds blended effortlessly into the patch wood stone of the hearth, causing her to smile.

She fingered the gauzy curtains that hung around her bed and looked to the bath that was set and still boiling. It was the only warmth she often saw, enjoying bathing so much that she partook in the act nightly. Stripping down, she found her mind still a whirl of activity as she climbed into the large claw foot tub that had no faucet and no drain and filled nightly to the same temperature until she emptied it. On occasion she had fallen asleep and woken hours later with the tub still warm, a charm of her own doing that caused her much pride.

She hesitated for only a moment before shedding her shift and sliding into the bath, hugging herself as her mind frantically moved over the events of the evening, knowing it wouldn't be a quiet night for her.

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His step was sure as he trod to his rooms, his hand rubbing at the headache that was forming at his temples, muttering under his breath as he found his door and stepped into the red alcove, leaning against the closed door, a heavy sigh leaving his chest as he banged his head back against the door, muttering to himself about what a dunce he had been, why hadn't he kissed her? She was his wife after all. He loosened the knot on his tie, continuing his rambling mutters as his fingers worked on the rest of his attire.

The room was almost exactly as it had been since his father had died, he had been nothing but a child, and the only difference was the lack of new Puddlemere United posters on the walls, the last five years since he graduated had been less about tending to his whims and more about leaving childhood behind. The crimson walls were faded, as he had refused to change the tapestry, the crackling fire more than enough for him. He opened the windows and stood naked in front of the embers for a few moments, thinking of the woman who so vexed him.

He thought of their conversation as he moved to the bath, she had shown genuine interest in his doings, and he found her opinions fascinating. Instead of proposing he worked harder, she had worried about getting a helping hand, offering her advise and even volunteering her estate to remodel the cottage.

For his entire cavalier attitude, for all the charm his good looks and youth held, he found himself at a loss when it came to charming his wife. It was clear to him that a name and title weren't enough to impress her, and as he doused his face and naked arms with cold water he thought that maybe that was for the best.

Soon his thoughts diverted from her mind and thoughts to the features he had so carefully analysed during their night together, the fine lines that defined her face, her bright blue eyes. He closed his eyes and slipped into the tub, and thought of her soft porcelain skin, wishing he had been brave enough to kiss her goodnight, the warm and sweet scent of her hair. All of a sudden he wished he were bathing in iced instead of warm water, as the memory of her figure brushed his mind, her dress bringing up the prominence of her features.

He realised he wanted to be her husband, to claim his right... But he knew he wouldn't do so without her willing consent. His hands rubbed his face and he submerged his head on the water, brushing back his mane as he emerged, visions of raven hair and sweet perfume assaulting his closed eyelids. He would work out that dilemma, but for that night, a simple brush of her skin would have to be enough as he relieved himself of his youthful desires.


	4. The Cat

The cat became a fixture at Rookwood Remedies. It would be found waiting on the step when he opened the door in the morning and wander to its favourite spot in the window, basking in the sun. He greeted the animal with an affectionate rub on the head as his mind raced over the morning he'd had...

He became fond of the creature, much like he became fond of breakfasting with his wife. He never took notice of her schedule before, what it was she did. But after her attack, and their subsequent dinner, he had his maid wake him when she woke, watching her in her smart riding outfit as she collected the large grey stallion from the stable and took off for nearly an hour. Returning, she handed the reins, her crop and her riding hat to the groom, gave the horse an affectionate rub between the ears and retired into her lounge, where he was told she bathed and dressed for breakfast.

He greeted her in the large dining room as she concluded with Mrs McGuineas, the housekeeper. He learned that every morning at 815, the tall blonde Scot met his wife at her chamber and they walked along the house, checking the cleaning schedule and quality of cleaning being done, meals for the day to be prepared, tea to arrange with others, invitations that had been received and anything else that needed to be passed on to the Lady of the House.

The Housekeeper bowed to her Lord and Lady as she retired to her own breakfast in the staff quarters, as Benjamin extended his hand, "my dear, there's a chill to the air this morning, I was wondering if you would be opposed to dining informal." He motioned to the kitchen behind him.

"Opposed?" She arched a brow and removed her shawl; a much thicker and longer one than he had seen her wearing before, handing it to the maid on her left, "No, not quite."

"Lovely," he offered his arm as she took, leading her to the large kitchen where mostly human staff with a few elves bowed to the Lord and lady of the house. He led her to the large wood table that sat in the middle of the room and assisted her with the bench seat. "I know it's not as comfortable as the dining hall, but-..."

She reached over and touched his hand, "It's perfect dear."

He smiled at her, his hand moving and holding hers gently, trusting for once the strange feeling of comfort he had started feeling around his wife in the couple of weeks following their date, the trembling edge that threatened his fingers was soothed by her warm hand just as his young eagerness had started to ebb the more he got to know Georgiana. His initial determination to get to know her was made simpler as he discovered how he enjoyed her presence with every passing day.

Their hands separated as Iggy, the slight and pointy house elf who had once been Ben's only childhood friend, served them breakfast. Potatoes, thick slices of bread, egg and tea for her, and oats, sausages, cheese, tea and an apple for him.

"I used to break fast 'ere when I was a wee lad," he smiled as he chewed, pointing at the side of the table that pressed to the wall, "Iggy would make me muffins and I'd watch the cooks goo about as they served me mum and da'..." He trailed off, lost in memories.

She smiled, "how old were you?" she took a small sip from her tea, her eyes keen on his.

"Well before Rosie was born," he hummed, "I must've been about six or eight years young." He smiled, "about fifteen years ago..." he chuckled, the sound and his smile made him look as young as he really was. A full 22 instead of the gaunt 28 some took him for. "Merlin's beard, it feels so long ago."

She liked how his face looked when he laughed, his green eyes sparkling as he continued to eat.

"What about you m'dear," he wiped his lips with a napkin, "how was life before Hogwarts?"

She chewed daintily on her bite of potatoes for a moment as she thought back, a sweet smile touching her lips as she recalled green pastures, tall trees, and the scent of flowers and food. "My sister and I used to run along the edge of the forest," her smile broadened, "well, we thought it was a forest, it was really just a few trees that flanked the garden right outside the kitchens and dinning room..." she giggled, "I wonder why is it that children always run close to the kitchens?" she shrugged it off, "I guess we all like sweets and food. My sister and I were no different... We played and in our fantasies I was out in the French forests, looking for new dragons, for exotic varieties of plants, writing everything down, coming back home famous and renowned..."

He laughed softly in amusement, picturing a tiny version of Georgie running about the garden, "I have no doubt you would have made a fierce explorer."

Her cheeks turned crimson and she smiled coyly, "I was but 8," she sighed softly, "then Jenny was sent to Beauxbatons."

His hand reached out for hers, giving a gentle squeeze of her fingers, "sounds like you two were close."

She nodded, "we still are, but we used to be inseparable."

He smiled warmly, "well my dear, you can ask your sister to visit at any time, and we can ask Mrs McGuinneas to ready a wing for her."

Her smile seemed to light up her whole face, and Ben thought the entire kitchen looked brighter, "thank you Ben."

He emptied his tea and held her hand up, leaning over and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles without even thinking of it, "my pleasure." He stood, grabbing his cloak as he did and smiling at his wife. "I have to go now." He stood a bit awkwardly, going over the words in his mind once more, "I wonder, are you free for supper in town this evening?"

She looked up, her bright blue eyes inscrutable to him as she thought. After a brief pause she nodded, "I am available, shall I meet you after you close the shop? My schedule is somewhat more flexible than yours."

He tried to contain his smile but it was futile, "thank you, my wife."

She giggled, and waved as he left. She had started feeling like a schoolgirl around him and she didn't mind one bit as long as he didn't notice the extent of his influence on her emotions.

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Once in Diagon Alley he stopped to make inquires for a new cauldron before finally opening the shop. Artemis was already waiting for him at the door, her tail dancing slowly as she followed him inside, meowing softly and moving between his feet as he readied the counter for the day, serving some of the milk he had brought from home in a plate for her.

"We're closing on time today little girl," he chatted while he placed his slab of cheese and bread on another plate, casting a confining charm over it. He glanced at the snowy creature and smiled, "now, don't go wondering back to the lab while I bottle up and set up new potions, I'd hate to ruin that nice coat of yours."

Artemis glanced up, cocking her head as her tail continued to sway. Her eyes seemed to tell him she was smarter than he thought and her purring meowing was warm and seemed to confirm this.

Ben moved about his day, his doings mostly confined to the lab as customers were scarce. He had grown chatty in the weeks since first finding Artemis, telling her what he was doing, or what changes he thought the potions needed, for the cat never stayed far behind.

The hour he had designated for lunch was never spent solely for eating, and today what he sorely needed was a nap, so he decided to close the door and walk up the stairs for a little quiet, chuckling as the cat nestled with him. He had become quite affectionate towards the creature, it's presence softening his lonely days and making the slow business less of a burden.

When he woke he was alone and the sun was low in the sky. He called out for the cat, but he guessed she must have left once more to hunt for prey. His thoughts lingered on the animal for a moment longer, then he busied with leaving the shop ready for the next day, pulling his hat and jacket on as he exited the place and started his walk to St. Mungo's.

He could just as easily have appearated there, but there was something charming of walking along the late spring streets of muggle London, the carriages and cabs busy taking people out of town for the night, the workers flocking to the pubs, families looking for places to have supper, young people shopping and having a jolly good time. The city was bursting with excitement and for one still young it was difficult not to feel infected by it. By the time he arrived at Mungo's he was feeling almost elated, a humble handful of daffodils in one hand as he waited for his wife to finish her shift at the healing centre.

He didn't have to wait long before Georgie walked out of the place; her eyes bright as she smelled the flowers and looped her arm around her husband's for their walk together. Their destination was a small teahouse a few blocks down, a quaint and cosy place that served English and French pastries, as well as soups and sandwiches. It was, she had expressed, one of the best in London, and her favourite for casual supper in town.

Voices form the other patrons mingled as easy conversation was the norm of the place as lone singer harmonised with an accordion in a foreign accent, his voice languid and soft blending in perfectly with the pastel colours of the place, and with the rich flavours of their meal.

She eyed the man from across the table and smiled, chewing on her rutabaga and contemplating his pinched brow, "Something the matter my dear?"

He shook his head promptly, and she knew it was the state of his books, which she had glanced at prior to leaving that afternoon. "How has the front been?"

"Slow," he said as he pushed his cut meat around. Her eyes picked apart his features and she yearned to reach over and grab his hand. But instead she simply smiled shyly, causing him to continue, "But I keep myself busy." She nodded as she let the silence sit for a moment before it moved on between them, and she broke into an anecdote about a patient she saw a few days ago before trying to engage him once more, "Did mister Nott pick up the gnomicide you were making last week?" Georgie asked as she grabbed a bite of the éclair.

Ben shook his head and shrugged, "he hasn't yet, I'm sure he'll do so before the week ends..." he hummed and looked at the contents of his cup of tea, "at least I hope so, otherwise I'll have to hope it doesn't go bad." He gave a soft sigh, "it's slow going before summer... It always is."

He seemed to be talking to himself, but it gave Georgie an opportunity to share the idea she had come up with in the last few days. The time she had spent with him in the form of Artemis had given her a broader view of who her husband was, and cautious as she was, she was now ready to try and play a more active part in his life. She knew these little suppers, sharing breakfast, going out, it was all part of Ben's attempt to form a relationship; but his work wouldn't allow him more. This was one thing she would have to do for them.

She smiled and cleared her throat, pulling her husband out of his own head, "I've been thinking Ben, would you find it terribly inconvenient if I were to spend some time with you at the shop?" she bit her lip as her eyes analysed his features, trying to see how the idea sat with him, finding only surprise in his eyes at the suggestion, followed by something else she couldn't place.

"I..." he stammered, he had not foreseen something like this. He tried to quickly weight his concern at his wife knowing the dire state of his finances and the precarious edge on which his business balanced itself, with the great and increasing desire he had to share more time with her.

She was quick to continue, "I promise I won't be a burden, I can even help if you get customers while you're working on a formula..."

His eyes softened and he smiled, "are you certain my dear? It's quite dull work most days." Her cheeks blushed, but he continued, fearing she might think he was refusing her offer, "I would have no inconvenience if you would like to spend time at the shop..." he thought of something else, "wouldn't it interfere with your work at Mungo's?"

Her smile was full of mirth at the comment, "I am told a respectable lady is not to have a paid job. Since my work there is voluntary they can do without my volunteering for a few days."

He chuckled at her witty remark and thus was the matter settled. The next day would see both Rookwood's attending the family business, but first they made their way back home, using the floo network to get to the nearest town, but deciding to walk the rest of the way home.

Ben was feeling pensive, there was much in his mind and he had once shared with her that walking along the tall green grasses of home, with the lake on one side and the hills on the other, was the best way for him to clear his head. She had confessed a similar affinity to walking and riding,

so now they shared some of his evening walks, allowing the silence to wrap comfortable around them.

They had been walking for over half an hour when he realised they were holding hands, but neither of them acknowledged the fact, secretly believing that a single glance would break the charm held so lightly by each other's fingers.

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Georgie grabbed a basket with food that was put together by Mrs McGuinneas, telling her husband that a good home-made meal was better than any stew put together by Tom at the Cauldron, thus ending his protests before they began. Once in Diagon Alley they headed straight to the shop, Ben glanced around before opening. The rug outside the door was missing his feline companion for the first time in weeks.

"Huh," he wandered aloud as they stepped inside, taking the basket from his wife and placing it next to his leftover cheese and bread, casting on it the same plague-repelling spell.

Georgie looked around the shop, as if she were seeing it properly for the first time. After all, she had not been in the place after their incident at the muggle pub. Once she was done looking at the place her eyes fell on her husband, noticing his slight frown and how he kept glancing behind furniture.

"Is everything well?" she asked, taking off her coat and gloves.

He stopped scratching his jaw and nodded somewhat absentminded. He wondered about Artemis. The furry creature had not been absent one day from the first time they met, but he tried to shrug it off, "it's just this cat," he pulled a chair for his wife and smiled as he flipped the 'open' sign with

a wave of his wand, "it's been here daily for over a fortnight and now it's gone."

Georgie smiled and sat down, her smile full of curiosity, "oh, you never told me you had a cat."

He blushed and hummed as he arranged flasks and containers, "it's not _my_ cat... She's just..." It was silly that he should feel so worried about a creature he had only known for a few weeks, "it's as if she's adopted me, she's at the door every morning." Her smile remained, but she let it slide. To him it seemed as if his words had put the matter to rest for the time being.

Ben continued to glance outside every now and then, but he soon discovered his wife was an excellent companion, her witty conversation and sharp mind proving to be not only a balm for the long hours, but an improvement on his day. Before lunch she had proved to be an effective and charming hostess, this had allowed him to work on steeping a potion that had to be brewed before sunset to prevent it from rotting.

Lunch was spent with laughter and easy conversation, the usual hour- long break extended to two hours as they lounged upstairs, the comfortable quiet between them making the young wizard pensive once more. He would usually pick up Artemis and snuggle with her while taking a short nap, and while he was finding himself fast friends with his wife, the notion of asking for her to hold him while they napped was... Well, quite preposterous in his opinion.

But Georgie was well ahead of him in that regard, sitting next to him with tea for the two of them. Handing one cup over she leaned slightly against his side, giving a kittenish yawn that made him look at her.

"So, Benjamin," she started, tucking her feet under her skirts, "what do you like about this cat of yours?" she smiled and continued before he

could object,"I know, she adopted you, but there must be a mutual underlying affection or she wouldn't stay."

He took a sip from the tea, arching a brow at the superior taste, "oh heavens, Georgie, this tea..."

She giggled, and waved her hand, "I got you a new batch of leaves and a kettle while you were busy with the skeleton mending potion," she looked up at her husband, "tell me about your cat?" she gave him a disarming smile, and he discovered it was futile to try and resist her.

"Her mane is Artemis," his neck turned red, but her eyes were soft and attentive to his words, "at least it's what I call her, she seemed fond of it."

"You realise it sounds as if you were talking of a person?" her tone soft. He shrugged and took another sip of his tea, "I realise that."  
She nodded, "what does Artemis look like?"

He chuckled and unconsciously leaned closer to his wife, her warmth and presence next to him feeling like the most natural thing in the world, "she's slender and graceful, her fur is soft and as white as new snow, her eyes the brightest blue..."

Georgie looked up at Ben, her eyes sparkling, "the brightest blue?" her own blue eyes seemed to gleam with glee, but her face remained impassive, as if it was only mere curiosity that drove her.

His eyes met hers and for a moment he felt himself drowning, at a loss for words. He knew nothing of his wife's motivation, but at that moment only the true blue of her eyes mattered, yet he still failed to notice that the slight green speckles around the edge of the iris were the same as those of a certain white cat.

"Well, yours are bluer, of course," his ears felt hot,"you've got the prettiest eyes a man has ever gazed upon," now he knew his neck and cheeks had joined in turning red. _What am I doing_ , he thought.

He barely noticed as her cheeks flushed, her hand pushing back a strand of hair and effectively covering her features to hide the lack of composure on her part. _Hold it together girl,_ she said to herself while speaking up, "and what do you like about her?"

He smiled warmly, "that she keeps me company..." he sighed, "you've seen now my day goes. This is the norm, and it can be dull at times," his eyes met hers, the unspoken question evident in her eyes, "I love what I do, but business is slow... Someone I can talk to..." he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss on her temple, not worrying if it was appropriate or not, simply feeling that he owed her thanks for making his day better, "although you're a far better companion."

She chuckled and sipped her tea, leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, blushing furiously afterwards. "I have enjoyed today Ben."

Her eyes were avoiding his but he smiled, "you are more than welcome to come with me another time if you fancy so."

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She kept him company at the store for the rest of the week, their chats becoming livelier as they shared wit and interests. Her knowledge of herbs interested him deeply as his expertise in potionmaking gave her a new perspective into his mental process. The days slipped by and before they knew it they were closing for the week on Saturday afternoon, his eyes lingering on the old door.

"I need to stop to get flowers for brunch with my mother," Georgie was saying, but Ben wasn't paying attention. His eyes were far away, "Ben..." she held his arm gently, "Benjamin."

He looked at her and shook his head, as if shaking off a dream, "yes, sorry Georgie, flowers for your mother. I can walk with you." She gave him one of her knowing smiles, he was becoming fond of those, "I'm sorry m'dear. I was thinking."

"You're thinking your pretty companion hasn't shown her tail around for a week," she nodded, holding his hand and tugging him gently away from the shop, "you wonder if your wife is keeping her away, you would like to have both keep you company, but how to make a cat realise it's missed..." She glanced at her husband, "is that near the mark?"

He seemed to mumble something about the rain, and afternoon naps, and milk and warmth, but she stopped on her tracks, looking up straight into his green eyes, "Ben, by what you have said she seems like a smart kitten," her eyes twinkled in the twilight, "be at ease my husband, I feel certain she will turn up when you least expect her to."

His slightly confused look made her giggle and they continued their way, walking placidly along the magical alley, buying flowers for the Lady of Du'Vert and then using the Floo Network to transport back to Scotland, where they appearated to the doors of the castle, choosing not to walk and feeling in need of dry clothes and warmth within it's walls.

Ben walked with Georgie to the door leading to her chambers, holding her hand and kissing her knuckles. The small ritual had become something they both enjoyed.

"I will tell Mrs McGuinneas to have supper ready in an hour, I assume that time will be enough for both of us to bathe and rest a moment before meeting downstairs?" he smiled at her.

She nodded and made a little courtesy, a gesture that once had seemed like mockery but now it was a little joke between them, something she did whenever they felt formalities had been unnecessary, "why yes my lord Rookwood."

He chuckled and bowed, albeit somewhat exaggerated, "I shall be in my chambers m'lady Rookwood." They both laughed, going their separate ways in order to ready in time for supper.

Ben walked downstairs to the kitchens, talking with Mrs McGuinneas and Iggy so they would have everything ready within the hour. After making sure everything was going as needed, he headed straight for his rooms, crossing the alcove to the windows and pulling the curtains open.

It was only then that he realised there was something on his bed, a soft purring calling his attention.

He turned slowly at the bed, eyes wide in disbelief, head cocking to one side as he tried to make sense of the snowy cat stretching on his bed. Artemis seemed to say 'hey, I've missed you, but you've been clueless'; he arched a brow, how was it possible that a cat looked so smug, as if something had been staring at him right in the face.

He walked slowly towards the bed, leaning down until his face was inches from the cat's her bright blue eyes flickering with amusement, her soft meow daring him to speak his mind, to make the connection.

It took him a moment.  
"Artemis?"  
The cat purred and rolled on her back, as if teasing him to try again.

"G-..." he frowned, the words of his wife now making more sense, "Georgie? Are you...?"

The cat meowed and laid down, belly up, giving him the most warm and loving look he had ever seen in such a creature, causing him to blush brightly. He laid down on his bed as everything fell into place, the cat curling on his chest as he realised his wife had known so much of his worries and troubles, she had witnessed his constant struggle even before he had made up his mind to open up... She knew and she had stayed, accepted him, she had taken him by the hand and she had allowed him to pursue his own pace. He hugged her, his Artemis, burying his head in her white fur.

"Thank you." He murmured, feeling a relief unlike anything he had felt before. He had drifted to sleep without realising it, it was only when he felt her lips on his brow to wake him when it all came back.

Georgie was sitting next to him, "supper is ready."  
He smiled and held her hand, kissing her knuckles. "Let us eat then."


	5. Soirée

After Artemis was revealed to be Georgianna, the couple grew closer than they had ever been. The time spent together taught them how alike they were in most respects, and even in their differences, they noticed a certain kinship that either hadn't been there before, or that they simply had not noticed. Their temperaments, so different at first glance, were in fact complementary. Where he was impatient she had endless patience, and where she grew restless he offered comfort.

The damp days of spring gave way to a very warm summer in Scotland, or "actual bearable weather", according to Georgiana. The change of season reflected the change of heart that had come over the young couple. The bright celebrations of midsummer, with the traditional bonfires atop the hill, marked the first time they held a party together with a select group of friends.

Their relationship had grown since Artemis was revealed to be Georgie. Ben's initial surprise had quickly turned to gratitude, for the first time in their marriage they were aware of where the other stood which had only increased the incipient affection between themselves.

Benjamin knocked on the door to Georgie's rooms with a broad grin on his face, his hands behind his back as he stood in full Highland dress, following the tradition set by his great grandfather to hold tea or supper in Agnes Day. She opened the door and he could see the red marks on her bottom lip, her eyes holding a look that he wouldn't have deciphered a couple of weeks ago. Now the concern was clear, and he thought he knew the reason.

"What troubles you m'lady?" he leaned forward and placed a gentle and chaste kiss on her lips, keeping his hands behind his back as they parted from the tender exchange.

Their first kiss had only happened days before, but it had ignited something else between them. She had been too involved in the planning stages of their event, her careful and methodical nature coming into play as he had never seen before. They went over the selection of guests, chose the menu carefully, the seating and order in which food was to be served, as well as accommodation for anyone who wished to stay the night at the castle. The stress of organising their first soiree had been evident enough for Ben to notice, and for him to try to do something about it.

They had been lying on the chaise in the early afternoon and she had been talking uninterrupted about bedding for twenty minutes when he had cupped her cheek and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, quieting the flow of nervous words, her eyes wide with surprise, which was soon overcome by curiosity. That night when he walked her to her chambers for the night she leaned up and kissed him goodnight.

Now the party was upon them and she looked up at him, debating weather to voice her final concern with so little time left, or to keep her worries to herself. His bright eyes met hers, making the decision an easy one, "I know it's a traditional event…" she half mumbled. "But I only have this blue skirt to match your colours…"

The rest went unsaid, she didn't own the proper garments for the Rookwood clan, an unconscious oversight on his part, but one he was ready to amend. His grin turned to a broad smile as he moved his hands from behind his back, holding a thick and carefully woven shawl, bearing the Rookwood blue and red tartan.

"You're a Rookwood, you should be able to feel and look the part," he said as he leaned over, carefully wrapping the shawl over her shoulders.

Her fingers moved over the fabric and she looked up, her cheeks pink, her eyes bright, and she seemed to struggle to find words. Ben thought she had never looked more beautiful.

"Thank you Ben," she leaned up and kissed his whiskery cheek, their hands tangling with ease. "Shall we?"

The Rookwoods had started preparations for the celebration of Saint Agnes Wopplecourt a week in advance. The fabled witch had allegedly burned in at least eighteen different pyres during the 1300′s, and witches and wizards all over the kingdom held festivities during the last week of May. Gerogiana had sat with Mrs McGuinneas, with Abby the cook, and with Iggy; in order to have a spread worthy of the event that would last from noon till sunset. Benjamin had gathered Lancel, Emmerich and John to have the pyre, tables, and tents ready.

The main doors to Taileasgcoille Tower were wide open and the young couple descended the stairs with their arms intertwined, eyes bright and smiles broad as they greeted their guests. Summer this high up north was a sight to behold, the green pastures speckled with sheep and cattle, the leafy trees seeming to swell to twice their thickness, the lake crystal clear and sparkling under the sunlight.

Sweet summer wine was given to everyone in their party of fourteen, the couples were close friends to both, and they had each picked their guests carefully, making a young and merry lot to spend the holiday, and to test their own in a new light. They weren't strangers to the demands of their social status, as a young union between wealth and name, they were uniquely situated amongst young lords and ladies who enjoyed the privileges of the British elite. The Rookwoods were in good standing not only within the wizarding community, but in the muggle as well; though this had not detracted from social events becoming a nuisance for Ben and Georgie during their first year of marriage. Parties were spent in company of their friends and away from each other, even if it meant keeping to opposite sides of the room.

To say that their relationship had been rocky would be the biggest understatement since the wizarding gnome wars. They loathed each other's company and thought their spouse pompous and embarrassing. It was only after their first Christmas party, which was held in her parents' house in France. For the first time in their almost ten months of marriage they had faced the task of forming a unified front to relatives inquiries and judgement. The event had culminated with a fight on wizarding purity in which Ben and Geoffrey Abbot, Georgie's brother in law, had been on the brink of starting a duel. Georgiana had asked her father to interfere, but the man had refused to partake in a political debate that wouldn't profit him, telling his daughter that Benjamin, as her husband, was her responsibility.

The event had led to an argument back home, but both had taken notice of their reality, they would have to live with each other for years to come, they would have to present a unified front before family and friends; and if they were to be married as they were, they could at least attempt to get to know each other. It had been the night at the pub after their first wedding anniversary, which prompted action from them. Afterwards it had only taken them a couple of weeks to become friends, and only a month more to feel they could share their newfound kinship with their closest friends.

The gardens of Taileasgcoille had not seen this much merriment in over twenty years, and Benjamin and Georgiana were the soul and life of the event. They had greeted their guests side by side, and they had never strayed far from each other until teatime, when the men smoked, and the women played cards. Both exchanged gossip, but while the women acknowledged it by name, the men called it politics.

"… I heard it's true," Anallie was saying in a tone that denoted outmost secrecy, "they got bit on their last visit north, do you remember, they were holding court till a couple of weeks ago."

Sylvianna snorted, "the Queen?"

Georgie tried her best not to roll her eyes or sigh too audibly, "and I suppose prince Albert and the children as well?" the dripping sarcasm was evident and Anallie just stared, as did Patricia, Abby, and Mary.

"Well, it does sound unlikely," chipped in Jane, "Georgie would have heard of it at Mungo's… Right Gee?"

All eyes were on her, and it was Sylv who spoke what they had all heard, "oh, I don't think so… Word is our Gee is spending less and less time volunteering."

Georgie tried not to show if the words affected her, taking a sip of her tea, "well, a married lady has things to see to at home, running a house and keeping a husband isn't a trifling matter."

As expected, the mentions of marriage made her friends change the subject to other ladies of society and their marital affairs, which was just enough gossip as she could take for one day. She rose from her seat gracefully and moved silently to where the men were smoking and talking more loudly than their wives.

"I tell you old chap, if Spout-Hole doesn't hold back his tongue, one of these days he's going to get himself hexed," Gherald mused between puffs of smoke.

"Oh, he's not a bad bloke, but I think his stance on international affairs is lax, perhaps too much for our benefit," said Maximillian.

"I can't complain, it makes it easier to obtain and export foreign species for the business," commented Ben just as his wife was crawling, almost cat-like, into his lap. His arms wrapped instinctively around her and he pecked her cheek without noticing the arched brows from his friends.

"How is business by the way, Ben?"

"Picking up. Usually does this time of year. Spattergot is on the rise. And thanks to my wife, I've got the best yew sap potion for it." The men grumbled as she mumbled in Gaelic, her eyes looking up at him. None of his friends spoke his native tongue, and for that he was often ridiculed, but behind his back.

But his wife spoke it flawlessly, " _dear; they're trying to tease you. I'm thinking it's because I'm here… Should I leave?"_

His lips brushed her brow as he murmured back, " _Nonsense dearest, you are always welcome on my knee."_ He smiled warmly as she leaned up and kissed him firmly. It was unlike any other kiss they'd shared. The previous ones had been chaste and sweet, and more than a little tender. This kiss made him forget his place and his company as his fingers held her tiny waist. Too soon she pulled back and smiled " _Are they looking rather incredulous?"_

"More than a little, my wife." He spoke in English, pecking her lips.

She nodded; appearing overly satisfied " _I'm going to go powder my nose. I'm tired of men and ladies. Mind if Artemis takes my place?"_

He kissed her fingers and smiled, "A sound plan my dear. Don't tarry long."

She stood and left without another word, leaving her husband and the rest of the men to stare after her as she sashayed towards the house. Ben's thoughts were still lingering on the fiery touch of Georgie's lips, his mind only called back to the present when he heard his name.

"… I don't think there's a doubt about who's kept on a leash here, mates. Our tomcat Benjamin Rookwood is one tame little pussy," Thomas sniggered, getting a chorus from the rest of the guys.

Ben tried not to snort at the use of the feline euphemism, while Brandon tried to soften the blow, "oh, leave the poor man alone. Haven't you heard he's stopped visiting Wales for his usual share of adventure?"

"A declawed predator," Marcus smirked, just as Artemis was crawling back into Ben's lap, making the young man smile as his friends continued to tease him, "tell me old chap, how does it feel to be stripped from your manhood so?"

Gherard snorted, not giving Ben a chance to reply, "I tell you," he lowered his tone, "you're too soft on that wife of yours, not a man in England would have let his wedding night go by without claiming his right."

That was just it for Ben, his brow arched and a smug smile curled his lips, his fingers scratching at the cat's white fur, her purring comforting to his heart. "Now my friend, you're just jealous that I don't have to go paying to take a turn at Bushy Park, and that I happen to be putting four quarters on the spit with the most beautiful woman in the kingdom."

This brought a whooping cheer from Maximillian and a rally of questions ranging from 'are you saying she's more beautiful then the Queen', to 'how good is she at spinning the little ball of yarn'. He didn't need to elaborate much, for as with women and marriage, men talking about sex ended with the group diverting to the personal affairs of several lords of court.

"We knew he was bound to end badly, remember his little gang of friends at school?" Emmerich commented, he was a man of few words, but a powerful man nonetheless.

"Friends?" Max snorted, "Ben, what did we use to call them?"

Ben hesitated for a moment but Artemis' purring was warm and comforting, "the green plague… They weren't all Slytherins, but Booth and McMann sure were the leaders."

Emmerich Nott rolled his eyes and Artemis nipped Ben's hand. Her best friend's husband had been a Slytherin and was probably not amused by the nickname.

"Surely their means weren't appropriate, but can you blame them?" Marcus intervened. "Look at how much trouble the Ministry's Muggle Relation department is getting us into, is it really so terrible that they want a better system to keep muggles and wizards apart?"

Ben felt the soft nipping again on his fingers, _thread carefully_ , it said. He scratched her jaw reassuringly. "I do wonder if we are not flying too fast into action."

Gherard was looking flustered already and Ben wondered if maybe he had exceeded himself on wine already, for his tone was harsher than the subject required, "Rookwood, you are truly too soft. You can't forget muggle brutality, especially on Saint Agnes day. They're uncivilised swine and they should be treated as such."

"Nothing good comes from them," Brandon mused, "you know what we do? Marry a muggle and you're no longer part of the family," he nodded at Max, "I know your father thinks the same."

Max shrugged noncommittal, but Ben arched a brow, "does that mean every Black thinks the same?"

Thomas chuckled, "it does if he's a smart man. I know for a fact your father was of the same mind Ben, or are you denying his famous muggle raids?"

Ben blushed and he could feel all eyes on him, but Artemis was snuggling closer, purring softly. "If we all did as our fathers, this would be a much poorer world because of it." The cat jumped off his lap and darted to the house before he even stood up, "now, if you'll excuse me, I sure supper shouldn't take long now, I'll see if I can speed things up."

He nodded at his guests and walked warily towards the castle, scratching his bushy beard as he stepped into the kitchens. Georgie was sitting on the counter, chewing on an apple, her legs crossed and balancing as Iggy moved about, singing happily. He walked towards his wife, his ears red and his hands reaching for hers.

"Georgie… Aboot me dad's muggle pureblood policy-…" His uneasiness brought his accent more noticeably, making her smile warmly. She quite liked his Scottish drawl.

He didn't get to finish his thought, as she leaned up and brushed her lips against his, making him smile and blush brighter.

"Now," she giggled, looping her arms around his neck "that's what its like to be interrupted Benjamin," she kissed him once more, with an underlying passion, his own hands holding her waist. Moments later they drew back, and her eyes held an acute note of seriousness, but with the underlying warmth remaining. "Ben, your father's actions do not define who _you are_ … If anyone has moved heaven and earths to prove that, it's been you, my husband."

His ears turned crimson, "you know I don't share those beliefs."

She nodded, "I know," she combed her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, "haven't I seen you buy supplies and trade with muggle and wizard folk alike? Don't let politics ruin such a perfect day, talk of quidditch and women and the weather for a while."

He smiled, "thank you Georgie."

They both lingered together for several minutes, as the busy kitchen grew louder with the sounds of preparing food. Eventually she sighed and drew back while handing him a plate with food, "now, help with these while I move everyone to the solarium."

They emerged from the kitchens together along. Georgie and Mrs McG calling everyone indoors while Ben and Iggy hovered platters overstuffed with food, the goods floated effortlessly in front of them, and the elf seemed to juggle jugs of fruit punch and wine.

The sun vanished behind the lake and trees that marked one of the edges of the Rookwood estate. The blood hue of the dwindling light painted their surroundings in an almost ethereal manner as they sat down for supper. Torches came alive moments before the sun faded, making the change in conversation as fluid as the change in atmosphere.

"Will you be attending the first game of the season?" "I think they have a good chance if they focus on shaping their defence" "The Cannons?" "They haven't lost a match yet". "Gwenlog? He was a mess at Hogwarts-… No, I didn't know you were related". "My money is on Hufflepuff this year".

The fireworks started just as conversation was waning, giving everyone the perfect excuse to grab their drinks and step outside once more. To the Rookwoods, the warm evening and cool drinks made for the perfect excuse to be close while watching the bonfire and colourful spectacle in the sky. A simple spell brought a few chaises and cushions outside the solarium and the couples settled, with the host and hostess holding each other close, as if the simple embrace had always come naturally. Though it wasn't so for all their friends.

Georgiana looked around and a smirk crossed her lips as she burrowed closer against her husband's chest, her soft purring making his heart swell, her words in Gaelic guaranteeing none would eavesdrop. "They're not used to sharing this much time together, are they?"

He chuckled softly, knowing full well that few of their friends liked their spouses enough to share more than their marital bed, "I know Max wouldn't hold Sylv's hand just for the thrill of it."

She nodded, "look at Jane and Em." He glanced towards them and she continued, "They are closer even if he seems cold all the time."

His arms wrapped warmly around her, thinking he and his wife had dodged a deadly curse. She looked up at him, "I am glad that's not us Ben."

His smile broadened and he kissed her tenderly. He liked the taste of her lips more and more with every kiss. "I am grateful we are not like them Georgie."

Jane's eye caught Georgie's and the two shared a knowing smile, but it was Abby who spoke; "Gee, come on, tell us what's so special since none of us can understand that gibberish you insist on talking."

The comment made Benjamin blush, but Georgiana took it on the fly, her smirk broadening, "We were simply congratulating our fortune at having such good friends as you." Ben chuckled and held her closer, mumbling his thanks on her ear as the conversation turned inevitably to another subject. Such was the blessing and curse of the company they kept.

The party was over well into the night, and by then their purpose had been long achieved. They could now be "The Rookwoods" before others, as much as they were between themselves. That is, true friends.


End file.
